ears

f luxury-designer gowns, polished shoes, glasses clinking, and

the younger son of the Branwell family, who had just return

. One after another, young men tried to ask her for a dance, but every time

d was mor

cunning, sharp-tongued, straight-up terrifying. No

of the red, and somehow managed to survive in Cavelle City's brutal

uys could handle. But let's be real-the reason mos

rtbeat, but not thanks to some miracle move

away, but every time she needed him,

r whatever label people wanted to slap on that

rinking in, Frase

in, all eyes were on

y on the eyes?

is tall frame just right. Strong, composed, with that qu

lips thin and pressed-he didn't need to sa

embodied pure sex ap

oked in he

took a sip of her wine, then ran her tongu

roat moving with a small gulp

ove her ankles. Her bare shoulders and porcelain collarbones

her lips were a striking red, matching that

wasn't the same girl who used to cry

f-bolder, more dangerous,

orm from a fragile kitten into a qui

took the mic from the host

ially stepping in as President of Branwell Corporation. I'

ears like velvet and steel. Made your

hose nights where his whispers

Topping off the last of her drink, she t

er eye, she caught Fraser ch

wing, with lips all shiny and pink. Like, the kind o

es and slammed her glas

by flinched, c

le, then turned and strutted toward

ped, twisted on her heel, and wa